“Couldn’t we put them in the loft room tonight? The woman is with child.”
“What?” Abigail fairly screamed. “Don’t you realize Aaron, son of Azariah, of Antioch and his servants will be here shortly? He rented every cubit of space we had days ago. It’s a great honor to our humble inn to have such a famous merchant stay here. Would you turn him away?” she said sarcastically.
“And don’t you forget,” she scolded. “He is paying us quite handsomely. No, it’s quite impossible to put those travelers up. Tell them to go away.” She concluded firmly.
“I don’t want to hear more, Simon.”
She cut him off. “No!”
“I think we should do something for them. They have come from Nazareth and are very tired. The woman’s time is quite near,” Simon persisted. “Somehow, I feel it’s important that we give them a place to stay.”
“Of course you do,” Abigail retorted. “You are too soft. And tomorrow you’ll think some aromatic beggar is important, and that we should help him, too.”
“This is different, Abigail. These people are somehow different,” Simon insisted.
“Humph! Who are they? Nobody! Tell them to go away. We have no room for them.”
Abigail turned, wagging a finger in Simon’s face. “Simon, you are a fool. If it hadn’t been for me, we would have been out on the highway ourselves. Alone, you wouldn’t have made the inn pay. “She added, “You have to admit, we’ve done pretty well for our little village.”
Simon nodded tiredly.
“That’s enough!” she said sharply. “Get rid of them.”
“Abigail, don’t you feel any sympathy for them?”